


Let's Make A Bet

by raulism



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Running, oral sex bet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7810660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raulism/pseuds/raulism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rafael is really starting to regret signing up for that 10K. Maybe a bet can motivate him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Make A Bet

“I think I’m dying.”

You laughed at his overly dramatic words, “You’re not dying. We’ve barely gone two miles.”

“No, seriously, I’m not going to make it, cariño,” His theatrics continued as he stopped running, placing one hand on his knee while the other stretched out towards you, “Leave me here, go on without me. But just promise that you’ll always remember me.”

“Oh my god, Rafael.” Your giggle made him smirk but all of his humor was not going to dissuade you. Circling behind him, you stayed out of reach of his grabbing hands, knowing he’d win this battle if he was able to pull you into him.

You pushed on his butt, urging him a few steps forward, “Come on, come on, let’s keep going. Just one more mile and then I’ll let you stop.”

“Oh, you’ll _let_ me?” He lunged for you but you managed to sidestep him, sticking your tongue out at him to annoy him further.

“Hey, listen, _‘Counselor.’_ I wasn’t the one who decided to sign up for the NYPD 10K when I hadn’t run in a couple decades.”

“A couple decades?! Just how old do you think I am?”

“Old enough to know that trick with your tongue that you showed me last night.”

He groaned at the memory, frowning as you took a couple more steps away from him. Heaving himself upwards, you could see the wheels turning in his head and knew it probably meant trouble for you.

“Fine, let’s make a bet.”

“No way, because this is one of the rare things I’m better at than you and I’m going to ride this train of superiority all the way to the end of the line.”

“That’s an awful metaphor.”

“You’re an awful metaphor.”

“Oh, good one.” He stuck his tongue out at you now,” Anyway, back to this bet. I’ll even make it a running bet, if you’re so sure that you’ll beat me.”

“Ooh, now you’re talking,” You started doing high knees in place, warming your body back up even though your victory was all but assured.

“Lovely. See that fountain down there, maybe a quarter mile away, on the left?”

“Yup.”

“We’re going to race to it. And if you win, I’ll run two more miles with you today.”

“And you’re not allowed to complain _at all.”_

He chuckled at your addition, “Yeah, sure, no complaints shall cross these lips.”

You tilted your head to the side, wondering what he was willing to bet against having to run more than he had originally agreed to. “And if you win?”

“ _When_ I win, we’re done for the day.”

“How are you a lawyer? That’s a horrible bet, at least for you.”

“I wasn’t finished. _And_ you have to give me a blowjob everyday for a week, any time, any place that I request.”

He smirked as your mouth dropped open slightly. You hated to admit it, but he had not only surprised you with his request but also turned you on. Trying to hide your eagerness, you continued baiting him, “My original statement still applies - that’s a horrible bet, but now for me. What do I have to gain from this?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he responded with all the nonchalance in the world, “Fine, if you win, I’ll also go down on you everyday for a week, whenever and wherever you want.”

 _‘Oh, god,’_ you were definitely finding it hard to focus on the end game here. But the thought of winning and being able to rub this in his face for an undetermined amount of time was too enticing to pass up.

“Deal.”

He shook your hand, pulling you in close for a passionate kiss as if to further seal the deal.

“Don’t look so cocky, cariño. I’ve got longer legs than you and you’re a distance runner. When was the last time you practiced sprints?”

“I don’t need to practice, darling, this is all natural talent right here.”

He snorted with derision before toeing a line into the gravel as a makeshift starting line. “On your mark?”

You nodded, feeling good about your chances. The man had nearly been about to pass out two minutes ago, there was no way he was beating you now.

“Get set…Go!”

The two of you took off like a shot, feet pounding the pavement as you ran in sync, neck and neck towards the fountain. People made room for you, stepping to the side of the track as they heard you coming down the stretch. Rafael was breathing hard next to you, and you felt your confidence soar as the distance narrowed down to less than one hundred meters.

Pulling slightly ahead, you felt your lungs beginning to burn and your calves starting to ache but you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. _‘You’re almost there, you’re almost there’_ you said your normal mantra reserved for the end of your runs - a final mental push to finish strong.

Now with only twenty-five meters to go, you elongated your stride, desperate to win this bizarre bet with Rafael. You were so close you could taste it, already planning your victory gloating when a streak of bright blue tore past you, finishing first in the last couple feet.

Stopping short, you rested your hands on your knees, mimicking his earlier position in a mockery of your own false certainty.

“What the f—? How? What?” There was only confusion in your tone and in your head, unsure of how this had happened.

He turned, laughing at the look of astonishment on your face. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I used to run the four hundred in high school. Yeah, actually, at Harvard too. I was quite good, going to the national championships a couple times.”

“What the fuck?” You could only repeat your question, thrown off by this new information and your own defeat.

Wrapping his arms around you, he planted an exaggerated kiss on your cheek, rocking you as if in a slow dance while he hummed ‘We Are The Champions.’

“You played me! Hustled me!”

His laughs only grew louder, shaking his chest and yourself in his arms. “Not entirely. I do hate running anything longer than a half mile.”

“No! Not fair! You cheated!”

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that, cariño. No one likes a sore loser.” He was clearly still overjoyed at his bluff, and his good mood was becoming contagious.

But you weren’t ready, not yet, to give in so easily to his triumph without finding a way to work him up too. Huffing in feigned annoyance, you stalked away from him. He didn’t follow, likely trying to gauge how mad you truly were at him.

Stopping a few feet away from him, again out of reach of his arms, you only looked back at him over your shoulder.

“Well? Aren’t you coming? I believe I owe someone a blowjob. And I’ve recently learned a pretty neat trick from a certain silver-tongued lawyer that I’m sure can be applied to you as well.”

His smirk grew predatory as he tried to recapture you in his arms. But you only took off; giggling at his groan of frustration when he realized he’d have to run the mile back to your apartment before he would receive his prize.


End file.
